


My Destiny Is In Your Hands

by solarium



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Absolutely winged this one lads, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, F/M, Flowers, Gardening, Healing, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, Redemption, War, because I love those kinds of arcs, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-06-24 14:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15632241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarium/pseuds/solarium
Summary: Dragged into an arranged marriage with the prodigal knight and now Duke, Ben Solo; keen gardener Rey has to learn to live with their bloody past and their uncertain future together. But with forbidden gardens and locked down minds, it might be easier said than done.





	1. Tansy (I declare war on you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first fic, and I really, really hope you enjoy my (sometimes tedious) writing! I’m a bit nervous about posting this, but I hope I’ll be able to receive some constructive criticism about it.

The dying leaves jostled themselves against the slow breeze, falling to the ground. Rey Kenobi’s petticoats were crushed underneath her as she lay down. Her eyes remained shut, and her lids were illuminated by the soft evening glow. She’d been dozing in and out of sleep for the past few hours that she’d been alone, catching up on the rest she’d lost from the long journey to the hunting lands. The loud snapping of a twig intruded in on her peace, and she flickered one eye open to find a rugged young man crouched down next to her; his hand inches from her nose bridge. She grasped it softly and ran her fingers around his and over his knuckles. He startled, his unusually handsome features rearranged in shock, and he quickly snatched his hand away into his chest as if she’d injured him.   
He cleared his throat, _oh goodness, what on earth had she been thinking; half asleep and stupid?_ ”Miss Kenobi—“  
“That’s me,” she interrupted, clearly flustered and shifting to get up off the undergrowth of the clearing.  
“Your father is looking for you; today’s hunt has ended.”  
“About time!” She brushed her dress clean of leaves, now standing and regaining her composure. “And who might you be?”  
He shifted awkwardly, clearly embarrassed from being caught staring. Finally, the boy managed to sputter out: “An acquaintance of your father. Sir Kenobi wanted me to see you, and he conveniently had a message to deliver.”  
His voice was prim and formal, but Rey could just hear a hint of softness folded into his deep tones.   
She had to suppress a grin. He was too cute.  
“Convenient indeed,” she said. “And what would be the name of my messenger?”  
More collected now, he replied with an elegant half-bow, “Ren, Kylo Ren.”  
Rey smiled gently, “A proper self-introduction is in order it seems. I am the adopted daughter of Sir Kenobi, Rey.”   
Mr. Ren nodded in recognition, and his brown eyes darted from facial feature to facial feature, trying to suss her out. “I’ve seen your name on the knights registry, actually. They say you’re quite the swordswoman. Tell me about it while we walk.”   
With that abrupt finish, Mr. Ren swept out his hand for her to take. They strolled through the autumn colours and crunching leaves back to the hunting camp.  
———————————————————————————————————————————————-  
 **Two years later.**

  
The field was desolate, the raw wind could only scrape the dust off the ground, never mind rustle the golden wheat that had held fort here years ago. Bodies lay rotting, and banners were stuck into the dry earth like fluttering headstones.  
Rey’s sword dragged along that same ground; her leaden body had forced it to move. She had to kill him. That man in front of her, whose swamp-like eyes held hatred in their murk. She hauled her blade upwards and took on a shaky stance.  
“Here to kill me?” His voice was flat and empty.  
She couldn’t answer. She needed all her strength to rip into him from head to toe with her iron. Kylo Ren took a step forward, and she could see that he was in no state to fight either. His black surcoat that held his faction’s coat of arms was torn and bloody, his hair was wild and probably hadn’t been brushed in months. She mustered a little energy with a grunt, and began to circle him like a wolf, staking her claim on her prey.  
At last, Rey spoke. “Do you remember me, Sir Ren?”  
“Of course,” He wheezed pitifully, leaning by the palm of his hand on his sword. “You were lying in the leaves— serene as a dove. Now look at you: you’re a beast.”  
“Likewise,” said Rey, picking up the pace of her steps. “We’ve both degraded ourselves to the likes of feral creatures.”  
Kylo Ren nodded, it was a solemn movement, slow and steady. Bloodlust edged back into his eyes, clouding them once more. The wind blew his wet hair back off his face in an icy spray of mist.  
He held out his sword— an elegant gesture befitting a gentleman.  
An odd aching prodded at his war-torn heart. He had to stop thinking. Stop feeling. He circled her in turn, like they were dancing in a cold ballroom.  
He wished.  
Rey took the first steps to a tune she knew too well; the scraping and thrumming of steel. Her fingers were numb.


	2. Verbena (pray for me)

____**Quite some time later...**  
It had been two months ago today since Rey’s father, Obi-Wan, had come running into the garden with news. Rey had received a proposal. There had been no suggestion of rejecting it, even though the groom’s portrait hadn’t been included. It had been sent from the duchy family of Valland. Obi-Wan had replied almost immediately, happy at the thought of his daughter being able to live a carefree life amongst the upper tiers of the court.  
Especially after all she’d done in the civil war. He wasn’t going to see his Rey go unrewarded for all that agony. For all that blood.  
Presently, he sat in their carriage en route with Rey to the cathedral in Valland’s main city.   
He looked at his seemingly calm daughter. He would always know what she was thinking, and he saw the storm circling in her hazelnut eyes.  
“You’ll be a fantastic bride. Duke Solo has become rather beautiful since you last saw him at that hunt all those years ago.” He paused to smile, “My! How you’ve both grown.” He gave her a hug that made Rey feel safe and warm.   
“Remember, I love you.” He whispered, caressing her cheek in his calloused hand, his smile lines crinkling upwards.  
Semi-transparent lace swept down her arms and up her neck, tickling her wrists and stalling just under her chin. The rest of the torso was plain, and then flared out into a beautiful skirt. Her lacy veil obscured her pretty face from view, and she wore small white gloves.  
As the carriage stopped outside the impressive, marble staircase, Rey noted the cascading forget-me-nots that adorned the sides of them. Her favourite flower was here at her ‘death’ to see her off. She doubted that Duke Solo of Valland had any gardens as pretty as her father’s.  
Up the stairs, and down the aisle, more flowers greeted her still. Lavender and small bunches of tansy hid among the vines on the columns. The cathedral was beautiful, built with marble and had a sweeping observatory roof. In a palace so light and free, Rey was to loose her freedom.  
Her suitor’s face came into view.  
It was him. Panic swelled up in her, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, to keep upright. It was the man who had stood in front of her many a time— Kylo Ren. The last time she’d lain eyes on him, he’d been dripping, head to toe in the thick blood of her allies. Yet, his eyes held a soft quality to them as she took her place at his side, and as she bound herself to him, his voice was oddly melancholy to her.  
How strange. Even his neck-length hair curled around his eyes in the sweetest way. She didn’t know what she was thinking. Maybe the court ladies were right— all that fighting had made her mad. A fitting wife for the prodigal Duke.  
Her thoughts slowed to a grinding stop as he lifted her veil, laying eyes upon her familiar face for the thousandth time. Even with all their history, they stood here as total strangers. He cupped her face in his gloved palm, and kissed her. It was quick and held no impact in the eyes of the guests, but to the pair, an unexplainable electricity had passed between them. Not one would tell the other, though. He held out his hand, encased in black fabric, for her to take.  
She did what a only a madwoman could have done. She threaded her fingers gently into his, silk upon silk, and left that cathedral with the monster.  
He helped her into the carriage. Rey gave her goodbyes to her father (he was almost in tears, the poor man) and they left for the Duke’s palace in the Valland countryside.  
When the horses were making pace up the alabaster track through the Solo estate, Rey noted the vast areas of rolling parkland that surrounded the archaic manor with excitement. If the estate grounds were at least as big as what she was seeing from her window, then there would surely be an open space in which she could either tend to an existing garden, or create her own.   
After the war, gardening had been her therapist and dear friend. She’d spend days upon end digging in the mud, breathing life into budding plants. It felt like she was raising new lives to replace the ones that she’d taken. With each flower, with each vine, the burden lessened.  
The wheels stopped. Her husband left the carriage first, to hold out his hand and help her down. The manor house was gorgeous— it had sweeping sand-coloured walls, and curling black balconies. A crawling plant framed the double oak doors. Once ushered inside by her spouse’s hand, he turned to the porter asked him to leave them.  
“Please, take a seat.” He said, and gestured to the two embroidered chairs.  
Rey hesitantly sat, her fingers dancing in her lap.  
He wasted no time in beginning, “I do not go by the name *Kylo Ren* anymore, as I’m sure you gathered from my proposal.”  
She nodded. “Ben Solo, was it? I hadn’t a clue you were from such a prestigious lineage.”  
He did an awkward smile. Rey saw a glimpse of the boy she’d met in the autumn woods then. The boy that’d been at the beginning of his descent into the underworld.  
“If it’s alright with you, I would like to lay down a few rules.” He said.  
Her brows furrowed in confusion.  
He continued on, ignoring the gesture, as what he had to say would be infinitely more interesting than anything she could contribute. That was probably his opinion. She zoned out of his blathering for a minute. She’d be happy as long as they got along, there were no complications, and that they could coexist in a commercial marriage without sacrificing their own happiness.  
“—and to conclude, you are not able to enter the wider gardens, but must stay within the inner plots when wandering. All the parkland is free for you to roam.”  
“I’m sorry,” her eyes narrowed, “But I’m not allowed in the wider gardens?”  
“Yes. That is the rule.” He restated.  
Rey scoffed in confusion. Her hands were gripping the arms of the chair with violent strength. She had to keep her composure, so replied, “Oh. I see. Well then, that is quite the shame. I was hoping to tend to a garden here, it’s a hobby that I hold very dear to me, and would make me feel at home in this new environment.”  
Kylo’s full lips twitched. “I had no idea,” was all he said.  
Somehow he’d managed to maintain the monotonous energy in his voice, even when she could see he was on the verge of laughter.  
“It’s not funny; not in the slightest!” She huffed.   
His eyes widened slightly, “I wasn’t laughing.” He said a little too quickly.  
Rey had to mentally roll her eyes at that. What an obtuse man. It wouldn’t hurt to show emotion openly from time to time, would it?  
“I will be expecting you in the dining room at 8 o’clock, promptly,” he said, as if the tension in the air hadn’t just pulled the room tight. “You should probably change out of that heavy dress, too. Put on something more comfortable.”  
“Thank you for your consideration.”  
Rey left the room with the feeling that this was going to be a very difficult life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the second chapter! I’m sorry that they’re all so short— this is only going to be a little cute fic.


	3. Anemone (forsaken)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey begins her Restore-That-Garden quest! Mysterious things remain to be stumbled upon.

Rey’s explorations through the contents of the huge manor library no longer excited her. Reading books for pleasure had never really been her thing, and she was beginning to become bored; Duke Solo had been away on official Valland Fief business since the night of their marriage. Nothing had happened that was supposed to that night. He’d made a plan to return to the estate in two weeks. Without someone to tease, Rey was withering away on her own. Servants don’t speak to their masters, either. Something else’s whisperings were tugging on Duchess Solo’s ears, however.

It was the walls.

The walls to the wider garden loved to flirt with her, to catch her eye at every turn. It was all too much temptation for the curious (and still peeved off) Rey. The day was bright and cheerful, not a cloud was in sight, and Duchess Rey Solo, sat prettily under an oak tree, slammed her book shut. The crows perched there scattered in terror.

She stood up with the same violence and marched off down the hill and through the manor, all the way to the ivy riddled wall.

She spent the entirety of two days (and one long, long night) trying to find an alternate entrance to the garden, as not to move the thick vines coiled up on the door. No one could ever know what she was doing. Kylo would probably peel her skin off.

At the end of a second day spent clawing in the mossy wall, she found it. The ‘it’ in question was a sizeable hole at the base of the wall, which, covered by a curtain of ivy, would mask her entering and exiting from any prying eyes. She was set. First thing tomorrow, she had decided that she would survey the situation of the plants, then the size of the overall gardens. Only then would she bring her tools here.

Mist closed in the next morning, and it seemed as if the air itself stood still in anticipation. Rey hadn’t expected to feel bad or nervous about breaking her husband’s shitty rule, but the mist carried strange emotions on its coattails. After a hearty breakfast, and asking the housekeeper for a picnic basket (she wanted to ‘spend the day on the estate grounds’) she gathered a wheelbarrow of tools and set off for the hole.

The rusty wheelbarrow just scraped under the ragged arch and Rey crawled after it. She had made sure to don her leather apron over her daywear; mud was the natural enemy of cotton. She lifted her head, still halfway through the opening. Air fell from her lips and melded with the silver vapour. Emerald green clover and vines, moss smothered marble pathways, archways of wild white roses. And that was just the part she could see! It was enough for now.

A checklist was already forming in her mind, first— she would re-tame those roses, so that the bushes actually formed the arcs they were supposed to. A foolish grin was plastered on her face and she felt a surge of tingling in her abdomen. She would make this garden even prettier than the ones she’d created at home. It would be her own way of getting back at Duke I’m-Selfish-And-Keep-Secret-Gardens-To-Myself-Even-When-My-Wife-Loves-Those-Kinds-Of-Things.

~~~~~

Duke Solo sneezed.

“Bless you,” said the man in the cell.

“I don’t need your input.” He snapped. “Look at you, weak and watery; where the hell is the fire that I saw in your eyes back then?! All that remains of you is a dull glint.”

“The cold hand of betrayal swiftly snuffed it out.” The twisted pale elder said. Ben had long waved the guards away, only to listen to the drivel that came out of Snoke’s sewer mouth. His execution was in a week, and Ben would be shoving his head to the bloody block.

Soon, he would be rid of a skeleton in his closet. He didn’t understand how Rey had recovered so beautifully. She danced an elaborate macabre with her skeletons, placing crowns of flowers round their porcelain skulls. She was smiling.

He erased the image from his sore mind and shoved the metal chair back with a sickening shriek. Cloak draped over his shoulders, he walked back through dingy tunnels to a brighter surface. Snoke toyed with his shackles in the dark.

Someone else held Ben’s soul now.

~~~~~

The end of the day always felt more satisfying to Rey when she’d done something worthwhile. She’d set the beautiful white roses on a redemption path; in future, they’d grow around the arches. It’d been a shame that she couldn’t leave them in their semi-wild state. There had been some strange tugging on her consciousness to leave them to be free— brushing it off was the best thing she could’ve done.

The mist would lift tomorrow, she would set to work on clearing the marble paths, and the lanterns that ran alongside them. Her husband would be back from his mystery errands soon, however.

It would be hard to find time to garden here when he was around. Or, as Rey thought, entirely hilarious to continue behind his back because he’s an idiot and can’t figure anything out. She’d vouch for the latter. Go big or go home, right?

Each day from then she repeated the pattern of returning to the gardens, and each day she’d uncover something new. Lavender fields, pagodas overlooking a lake, lotus blossom on the water. The garden stretched for miles it seemed. It was too big to even be considered a garden. It was a hidden swathe of uncared for estate! The most interesting of the new features was found at the other end of the garden, when Rey finally dragged herself there on the last day of free operation.

It was a grave. Pretty little anemones were growing around its cold stone base. And to Rey’s surprise, peonies grew all over the mound! For years she had tried in vain to get her hands on them, and here they were, growing naturally as if they were the toughest weed. She curiously peeled all the moss off it’s grey face. No name was carved anywhere on the memorial, almost as if the person who had put it here had been too afraid to do it. Rey felt sorry for the dead man.

Poking around the area further, she found signs of human activity. A book. Inside the battered red cover was an ink inscription that read— _Dear Ben; for your 14th birthday._ She flipped the book back over noting the title, “Advanced Riding Techniques” she said, shocked. He’d been here, judging by the wear of the book it was recently. Who on earth lay here? Why did Kylo just leave this book here? The more she thought about it, the more confusing it got. She knew little to nothing about her own husband.

A chill swept her hairs up. It was time to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment if you enjoyed it! (I’m really not very diligent, but don’t panic! This fic will most certainly be finished before December.) (She says...)


	4. Daffodil (beginning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it’s such a short chapter! I felt that it had to be short and sweet to keep some of the initial impact. Thank you ever so much for reading!

The air was thick with tension. Rey stood at one end of the gilded room, Kylo sat at the other. At last, he spoke. “I did it.”

  
Rey stood her ground at her end of the drawing room, refusing to come closer. “You didn’t tell me,” she said, her breath hissing through her teeth like a bitter wind. “I should be glad, but—“ she couldn’t say it, and began fiddling with the hooks on her bodice. Kylo’s sharp eye noticed the discomfort.

  
“What,” his voice cut.

  
“I feel sick,” she said, the clarity of truth rang through her voice. “I thought... I thought that it’d feel good to be rid of his crawling presence—but—I feel as though an extra stone has been added to my back.”

  
“You’re alone in feeling that way, then,” snapped Kylo, “I will never feel remorse for that creature.”

  
Rey didn’t want to, but she understood. The hidden meaning in his sharp words; Kylo felt everything, he felt too much. In the garden, she’d seen traces of his younger self, so curious and wild— before he was manipulated. How could someone that cruel also be so sensitive? He’d seen much more than she had of Snoke—experienced more. She couldn’t see his face from this far away, but there was a furrow in his brow, a shadow that’d been there since he’d returned. Some cruel fate decided to strum it’s bony fingers down each of her heartstrings.

  
She took a step. And one more.

  
Rey was striding, her eyes were still unsure, but her legs seemed determined to carry her to him. She’d made up her mind.

  
Kylo’s head jerked upwards in shock as he found Rey’s arms cradling him close to her chest, as her rough hands stroked their way through his silken black hair. His fingers twitched, and he was surprised to find his eyes welling up, then his hands clutching desperately at her strong back.

  
Sorrow came over them in shuddering waves, not for the executed man, cold and headless— but for the death of their youth, their innocence, and their tiny bud of love, drowned in the gore and the grime.

  
They didn’t let go for a long time— servants made sure not to bother them, and walked on with concealed smiles.

  
Kylo finally let go of his wife, withdrawing to see her that her eyes shimmered with a newfound fire. Little did he know, her motivations for the garden had reversed themselves. This time, it wouldn’t just be for her pleasure, but his too.

  
“Right.” She muttered, and drove the flame into her fist, into her hands, and swept out of the arching hall.  
Her echoing footsteps accompanied Kylo’s orchestra of thought as he sat, watching the blossoms fall through bay windows. The ethereal glow shaped his face and softened his scars.


	5. Hyssop (sacrifice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some moody mood stuff :);)

 

Buckles clinked and snapped into place and a leather apron was donned like a grizzled surcoat. Gloves; briskly pulled on, then strapped to her forearms somewhat violently. Metal sung at the bottom of the wheelbarrow as she slammed all her contraptions and tools into the rust.

Duchess Rey Solo was ready for the fight of her life. And, she was not alone. A very special flower was placed in her wheelbarrow, the centrepiece of her metallic sculpture— the Camellia. Layered and complex, fragrant and beautiful. It was to be planted at the heart of the garden, this little piece dedicated to him— the boy whose earthen eyes broke at loud noise, that hollowed out when he saw blood— for him. Rey set off to conquer the gap in the wall once and for all.  
————————————————————————————————————————————————-  
Kylo paced down the library, rolling a sturdy oak ladder along the extensive shelves as he went. Dust flew off the railings as he pushed— this place was way overdue a visit. He occasionally stopped, sweeping white coverings of canapé sofas, drawing and tying back heavy cream curtains with golden tassels. The morning light streamed through long windows in beautiful arcs. Kylo’s milky brown eyes lingered in childlike awe and wonder. With a sigh, he lent against the shelf opposite the ladder, and was about to close his eyes, when he saw something. There, a small collection was slotted. A small collection of horse driving manuals. He huffed a laugh, and with the movement his heart whimpered in a little quiver that made him feel so small amongst the towering shelves. There was a gap, in that collection. He wondered where he’d left it, and why the gift had never returned to his shelves. He would find it later, Kylo thought. He kept rolling the ladder along the dusty rail.

  
Some time went by, and birdsong attracted Kylo’s attention to the lush green outdoors. He found himself walking down to the stables and tacking a horse up, something he had not done since the war. However, the familiar buckles and positioning came back to him , the memory breaking the dam in his head softly.

  
Kylo rode through avenues of cherry blossom, admiring every petal, every branch. The sun pierced the pink canopy, and flitted through his long dark lashes. He thought about everything, and he thought about Rey. He thought about blood, about war and about treachery. But his mind always came back to that shining focal point. Her. He could still feel that single embrace, the one that had told him she wasn’t going anywhere. He could still feel the muslin of her dress between his fingers.

  
Cheeks the colour of the canopy, Kylo nudged his horse into a gallop, riding across the windy plains of the Valland lowlands. From an outside view, he looked like he was one with the horse, their movement matched and eased Kylo as the wind brushed through his hair. He remembered the times he trained on these plains, through the long grass he reaped, he learnt the proper posture and angles of swordsmanship from...him. His father. Kylo turned around and galloped home.

  
In the parkland closer to the estate, he collapsed under a old, trailing tree with white blossom flowing down its waterfall branches. The sweet smell lulled him into a calm sleep.

  
When the light had turned golden and puppeteered long shadows on the orange tinged grass, Rey found Kylo fast asleep. She brushed his hair off his forehead, swept him in her arms and led the horse back to the hall. She carried Kylo all the way, holding in frequent giggling fits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update! I had loads of big exams (boohoo)


	6. Black Eyed Susan (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finds things. Rey will resolve things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter today, but there is a bigger two on the way, at least 1,500 words each! I'm sorry that I update this so few and far between-- but thank you for your continued readership, I love everyone that even takes time out of their day to read my fic. TYSM!!!

Duke Solo’s eyes fluttered open to see Rey. “Hello,” she said slyly, “Did you have a pleasant rest?” Kylo didn’t know what to say, so he just kept quiet, in intense awe of her. She’d carried him all that way by herself. He knew she was a formidable swordsman, but raw muscle? He was, to put it mildly, terrified. Her honey-like voice seeped past his thoughts:–“Do you feel quite alright? Sleeping for the whole afternoon and even throughout the night– are you sure you don’t have a fever?” Slightly overwhelmed, he replied, “Yes…yes I’m fine,” his eyes still glued to Rey. “Just…worn down. That’s all.”

Relief polished Rey’s brown eyes. “Ah.” She said. “That’s all right then. Take your time– for you, it must be odd not having to worry about him anymore.”

Kylo made a halfhearted “hmmmn” noise and shifed to sit up under the covers.

The wind made the gauze white curtains ripple gently, leading blossom in through the open balcony door. Rey caught herself staring at him again, and turned away, a flush balancing on the tips of her ears. His eyes were clearer than ever, deeper. She felt lured to lean closer, to scour the open depths and find anything detestable about her enemy, her husband and her motives for the garden. A want to hate him was still nestled in her heart, but something bright and thick and endless pooled and oozed over it.

“–Rey?” Kylo whispered. “Is there anything else?” 

“No…” She breathed, scared to disturb the very air from its place. “Nothing else.”

She tore her eyes away from the face she would not yield to. _I don’t– not at all. Impossible._ She made a bad excuse, and descended the staircase two steps at a time.

* * *

 

A long and awkward month passed by. Rey believed this to be the finest morning of summer so far: the flowers in the box out on her baroque balcony were all in full bloom. She always missed spring for its blossoms and beautiful new beginings for life. She welcomed summer for its lasting flowers and passionate heat. Happy things aside, she was all in grey today. Kylo had said that it was ‘the anniversary’, and she knew for what occasion.

It was the day that Kylo had slain his father. She had seen the unnatural event. She had watched the blood streak its way down Kylo’s sword, and onto his young hands– staining them forever with a mortal sin. She shuddered at the thought of the former Duke Consort Solo’s organs. She’d seen too much, and let too much of it happen.

The grave she’d found in the inner segments of the garden! She thought with a jolt. It’d been hauntingly unmarked, and the prescence of a boy called Ben was in thin layers of mist around it.

Rey remembered the _lightning of decision_ that Obi-Wan had spoken of with passion when she was around ten. This was it, come to her in great tingles and surges of finallity. Today, she would see what lay in the mud. 

Today, she would make him say both forgotten names.

 


End file.
